the price of freedom and the fee of love
by from-the-mountain-to-the ocean
Summary: BD fic for Les. Warning – Blackcest. For Lumos!


**AN: Happy birthday, Les! I hope you like this :) Prompts are at the bottom so I don't ruin the story.**

 **AN #2: The linebreaks are apparently working, so I'm going to use...well, see for yourself :D**

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You watch your older brother. Sirius Black is a natural troublemaker, and he makes sure everyone knows it.

You always act the perfect pureblood son – you turn your nose up at muggleborns, call them mudbloods, and never deign talk to those even of semi-pure blood.

But is it because you want to?

Do you take pleasure in sneering at those unfortunate enough to have been born to muggle parents? Does the taste of the word "mudblood" leave a satisfaction burrowing into your cold, dark heart?

Or do you just play along because you have to?

No one knows what you go through.

No one cares enough to ask.

For all anyone knows, you could die and they would be none the wiser. They wouldn't come to your funeral. They wouldn't lament over your grave – over the damp, cold earth which covers the ebony coffin that you have been laid to rest in.

They simply wouldn't care.

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You used to tug on Sirius' sleeve, begging him to play with you. Your mother and father would watch, amused, as you pointed your toy wands at one another and shot sparks.

Once you set Sirius's hair on fire. He screamed like a girl at the sight of a few burnt hairs falling to the floor. You giggled and called him a wuss.

Where did those days go?

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You have nobody.

Nobody, save a brother that hates your guts, a mother who is better at doing anything except actually mothering, and a father who is absent most of the time. Absent complaining about his defective first son.

You wonder whether he ever talks about or praises you. You are the farthest thing from your older brother as one could possibly get.

Slytherins have no – you are no exception. Slytherins only have allies and foes, leaders and followers.

Everyone wants to be the leader.

You are a follower.

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You join the Dark Lord and struggle through the ranks of the Death Eaters in an attempt to get to the sacred Inner Circle. It is an honor bestowed upon only a special few.

You want to be one of those few.

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When you graduate, you move back to 12 Grimmauld Place, where your mother embraces you stiffly and your father claps you on the shoulder.

Both without saying a word.

Is it so hard to just tell one's son how proud you are of them?

This thought runs through your head as you make your way up to your childhood room – the room you haven't slept in for years for more than a week at a time.

You find yourself dreading it, for once.

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You know you're in trouble when you find yourself seeking out Sirius. He's living with the werewolf, Lupin, and you are surprised at the rush of jealousy that overwhelms you when you hear about this development.

You stop by his flat and breathe deeply before raising your hand, clenched so tightly in a fist that your knuckles are turning white, to knock thrice on the door.

"I'm coming, Moony, I'm –"

He stopped abruptly, shocked into silence for once. You feel satisfaction at finally having rendered him speechless. It has taken you many years, and still he blabbers on during most of the attempts.

"You're not Remus," he says – rather stupidly, you think derisively.

"Very astute of you," you comment dryly.

He stutters for a few seconds before regaining his frame of mind. "Come in, Regulus."

You wince. Even though you know you aren't close anymore, it still hurts to hear your full name from a brother that has called you "Reggie" for too many years to count. He either doesn't see you flinch or else he simply ignores it.

You step inside the flat.

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"Sorry it's so messy," he says. You smirk.

"That's nothing compared to my room," you return.

He gasps in mock astonishment. "Your room is messy? _Yours_ , Reg?"

You like the sound of your name coming from his lips.

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You talk for a little while, and you covertly admire your brother's body. That is – until he notices.

"Like what you see, little bro'?" he asks.

You swallow. He grins. He scoots closer and you frown, trying to move away. But soon, your back has hit the arm of the sofa and you are trapped. Sirius leans closer. "You know, Reg...you've always been such a handsome boy. It's a shame you took the Mark."

You blink. You had never expected to hear those words coming from anyone – and especially not from your brother!

You look around nervously, eyes darting from side to side. "Sirius, what are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks. You gulp.

He leans in and kisses you.

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It's all you can think about for the rest of your life – not that what little life remaining is very long anyway.

As you drink the potion covering Salazar Slytherin's locket, the images that flash before your eyes are the most horrible ones you could ever imagine: Sirius dead. Sirius blaming you for being disowned, even though you had pleaded with your parents to take back their word.

Sirius's lips – warm, chapped, familiar.

Wait. That isn't a horrible visual.

That's when you know you're dying.

You think, _will he ever find out what I did for him?_

And then you're floating. Free at last.

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WRITTEN FOR:

 _Lumos! forum Birthday Club._

Prompts:

• Death Eater childhoods (at least a scene of it)  
• Regulus Arcturus Black  
• Blackcest (SiriusRegulus)


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